


1 is Stable, 2 is Crowed, and 3 is Overflowing

by Momma



Series: Idea Compilations [2]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Also many Makaras in a Plot Device way, Angst, Angst and Feels, BAMF John, BAMF Karkat, BTW angst and sad feels, Because I can, Because he is a nosy shit, But John knows things, But this idea, Confused Gamzee, Cuddles, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gamzee is terrified and Karkat is too, I HAVE ALL THESE WARNINGS!, I got teary myself, I'm sorry but not enough, JOHN STOP ENCOURAGING YOUR STUPIDITY, LOTS OF ISSUES OKAY?, Made E because of my brain and its disfunctional and goes off into dark tunnels alone, Mental Disorders, Multi, Multiples, Murderous Gamzee, Other, PTSD, Personality Issues, Plurals, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Sad Gamzee, So many WTF moments, Stress, They give me random ideas when I should be finishing other stories, This is also why I should not go to Conventions, This is not what I planned, WHAT THE BULGEMUCHING HELL YOU CRAZY CLOWN, and Googles and Internets everything, and a normal raging KK that is FURIOUS, grab some tissues, it wouldnt shut up, now not so much, plot device
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma/pseuds/Momma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is this machine. No one has used it, no one seems to want to, and what it does is VASTLY unclear, really. Then add in a sad, insecure, murderous Clown trying to otherwise occupy himself, and that's what happens. </p><p>Karkat is terrified and confused, but John is sad (really, really sad) because this means a lot of things (most of them "Not Very Good" and one or two Very, Very Bad). It helps clear up the flip-flopping for him, anyway. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>OR: Where in a button is pushed and John has to help KK and GZ figure out everything again and maybe add a few quadrants, wether they want to or not. It is sad and not for the weak of heart feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dee Dee, don't push the button!

**Author's Note:**

> Cons are the bane of my write block, but only tend to crop up more stories, not continue (unless it's something absolutely gorgeous, then yes, it inspires). All the Homestuckians would be proud to know they made this possible.

This was his first day of awareness in a long while. Usually Confused - but happy enough, he supposed - or Murderous emotions held the reigns. But this, the despair, the longing, the self-horror...It generally took a backseat. Drugs or the withdrawal of them. Now, cleaned of the sopor if only for a while, he felt desperation clawing at him in a distant, echoing way with depression grabbing hold of his think sponge and vascular pump and _squeezing_  into a tight fist. 

Listless. Useless. Sick and sickening. Too much bone, not enough meat. Foolish and stupid and fanatical...

Tired. Heart-sick.  _Depressed_. 

So he looked to occupy his mind, forcing himself beyond the choking swath of emotions and into action. It was a large victory to him when right now he only wanted to curl up tight, a bag of nails and glass and more fragile than he should be with only a thin veil of woven strands keeping it all inside. A strange, tired victory. 

And he trudged, in shadow and fear. He trudged so that he wouldn't be so menacing, so sharp and angled. He traveled from the light because he did not deserve the light the others were reveling in. He tried and tried and tried and nothing worked as they flinched and scuttled away and stared fixedly, dangerously. So he feared. Himself, the others, the light. He feared in a quiet, sickening, sad way that twisted his insides into knots and choked the air from his air sacks and made bile coat his throat. That was how he ended up in some unused lab forgotten and dusty and machines that ran, but no one would touch for fear of some weird and horrifying retaliation. He was beyond that fear, sitting at the lip of a deep well that was reaching up ghoulishly to grab his ankles and drag him down, drowning him in a sadistic glee of feelings he couldn't sort out on his own. 

That...

 _That_ was real fear. 

Sometime later, he would regret his own selfishness. Right now, however, he was leaning over a machine without a monitor, without a keyboard or tubes or anything, just a tablet he was standing on, one that was bare of the swirling designs and images, blank white and boring. He stood there and looked at the one big red button that was the color of his Moirail's blood, so red it hurt to look at as he relived every moment he had all but destroyed their sacred bond. A button that he pushed in a fit of temper at himself, smashing it like he could remove and heal all of the wounds that his precious, most precious friend and heart and red, red, red, pale red love. So pale, he thought as he was forced to his knees. 

Pain traveled along his feet, through his legs and spine, gouging into his arms and neck and head, ripping in long strips blood and flesh and bone. He might have screamed but he felt too much to know if he was, blood thundering, sight blistering, breath gone and a tear that went from tip to end, top to bottom, pulling and pulling and  _pulling_ him apart. 

He wondered if there was going to be indigo blood splattered out in a waste of color as his last thought. 


	2. Sentient Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein life is a bitch about things and so is Karkat, air molecules are ALIVE, and holy shit, what the fuck is even going on?!

 

Karkat was up to here -  _TALLER THAN YOUR NOOK STAINED FACE, YOU BULGEMUNCHING CEPHALOPOD -_ with aggrivation and worry and pure unadultured fury with his Moirail. A Moirail that just could not help himself. Really, literally, he could not. This is a fact, not a weak observation of incorrect proportions. Due to his lusus being conspicuously abscent most of his younger sweeps, Karkat counted himself lucky that his Moirail was able to speak Alternian with only a slightly accented slur. If he wasn't so  _pale_ for his best friend and vascular pump brother, he would be as red as his mutant blood for the adorable klutz.  _  
_

But back to his issue!

He was looking for the clown, scouring every room and raising hell with everyone he met. Only John (and Equius, but let's face it, that guy is a stalker where Gamzee is concerned) was able to pin point a direction, and then volunteered cheerfully to lead the way of the disturbed air currents that were more than thrilled to help the Heir of Breath (Karkat was thinking very hard about not thinking about living air molecules and their apparently sentient nature, nope). Glad for the assistence if not the chatter about pranks, ideas, and not so thrilling past adventures, they loped off into the distance, hurrying further and further into the disused portion of the labs. The thick dust swirled around them without touching, something Karkat was grateful for, especially when he knew that his ass would be wheezing and hacking up air sacks if not for Egbert. 

Then they rounded the corner and the short mutant felt his cardio vascular pump crash into his ribs like a freighter going down hill. John was silent. Creepily so considering. Then: 

"Damn, I thought that was disabled. It was supposed to be disabled." 

Karkat turned to look at the doofus, his eyes harder than the mutant had ever seen and his smiling mouth distinctly  _not_ smiling, frowning in fact. Angry and very unhappy. The troll cleared his airways noisily, eyes wide as he sought to catch all the little ticks the human teen had. "Egbert?" 

Geez, was that his voice, all small and freaked out and scared? His human companion was freely unhappy about this situation and he could say little about it since he was vastly over-whelmed and under prepared and he was a Moirail and while signed on to this shit, he  _was not signed on for this shit_ , really he wasn't. 

"It didn't work on me, oddly enough, but..." he sighed, settling on the ground to walk the last few feet, standing at the edge of the platform and no further. "I read the manual, once. Got really very bored, because yeah, nothing else to do." He flipantly settled down on the floor, staring at their conundrum. "But now? A lot of what makes Gamzee tick is suddenly very visibly apparent." 

Karkat knelt slowly, settled beside the human supplying him with answers freely. He was afraid to ask, hands shaking before he fisted them in the hem of his over large shirt. "...And?" 

He sighed, long and weary and unplesant becuase this was _John Egbert_ , and he never ever was unhappy, not really except when his lusus was murdered (a long time ago, too long to feel painful to remember), but... "This machine was designed to 'separate' traits of a severely conflicted person. It didn't happen to me, I don't know why, but..." He pushed a hand through his hair. "I thought Gamzee was weird -  _shut up, seriously, hear me out -_ and conflicted in seriously bad ways. I just didn't know he had split off. I mean, I was curious about it, heard of it on some late night doctorial thing, and then really got curious and looked it up at the time. I didn't realize he  _was_ fractured." 

Karkat was quickly loosing his cool with John avoiding the issue by going around and around in circles. " _John!_ "

"Yeah...Gamzee has MPD or, well, Dissociative Identity Disorder. Gamzee is a Plural, only literally now." 

Karkat felt something in him snap. In some heart rending way, he was breaking without the seams being visible. John pulled him in close, resting his head on top between short nubby horns. 

"We'll fix this. Some how." 

The troll had a feeling there would be no fixing this one. 


	3. Mirror, Mirror, Mirror on the wall, the floor, the ceiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward but not really. 
> 
> (Also, sorry for the long wait. College has stolen all of my soul...)

It took some maneuvering, John moving them silently through the halls, high against the ceiling. Nothing gave way their trespassing, not even scent as the air wrapped around them. Karkat shivered at the implications, feeling for the first time in awe of John because he had _power_. The kind that, had any of their own kind had, the troll was certain that most of troll-kind would be dead and gone by now. Suffocated. Smothered. 

A shiver traveled all the way down his spine. He had enough issuses right now. There were _three_ of them right here in his lap. 

"Going down," John intoned softly, settling them all on his enormous bed. Karkat had argued this but had to concede that a recuperacoon was not ideal. The soft feather down coverlet ("It's for winter, Karkitty. Humans get cold easy.") was soon wrapped around his shoulders, his human companion sitting down with four large fuzzy blankets that were soft to look at, possibly softer to touch, and wrapped them around their - _his_ \- problem(s) as well, leaving an extra. Tugging his hood off, John sighed as he used the wind to wrap the black (Karkat was very much not interested in the fact that all the covers were either blue or black, no he was not) fuzzy blanket around his body and shoulders. They both looked at their problem, tired resignation making itself known by both awake parties. The human teen released a hand to gesture. 

"This?" 

The troll huddled deeper in the deep blue-black coverlet. "What happened?" 

It was soft, more an exhale than a whisper. There was a head bob, glasses slipping down. John wrinkled his nose and pushed his glasses back up. "This? This, in humans, is a mental disorder that makes parts of our mind bend and fracture and a bunch of bad things. The cause? A lot of stuff: Emotional, physical, mental, spiritual issues associated with deep trauma... It's kind of why I was so surprised  _I_ was not affected. I guess I just... I just delt with the problems as they came.  I didn't ignore them or shove them down or anything, I just _felt_ and _raged_ and _released_." He floated over to snuggle against Karkat, only getting a mild grumble that was more a growl that soon turned to a purr. "It can be severe to some people," he laid his head on the bony shoulder, closing his eyes. "It can literally _unmake_ someone as you know them. It's like a stranger in a familiar suit, wearing the skin of your best friend or a loved one." 

Karkat took a shaky breath, leaning into the only one available who knew what was going on (he was not going to ask Rose, fuck no). Another breath, choked and stuttering and oh... _fucking NO_ , his _Moirail_ , his _Pale Diamond_ , was broke and broken and _breaking_ his blood pusher at the quiet implications being spoken in a soft, determined, sad voice. 

  
"What do we do?" 

"We help Gamzee. We help him pick himself up and put all the pieces in their places." John lifted an arm out to hug Karkat to his side. "And, most importantly, we don't give up because, if we do, how can we expect him to keep trying?" 

Soft sobs filtered through coverlet as John pulled the troll tighter, feel an intense worry and horror fill the pit of his stomach. How were they going to help not one but _three_ Gamzees? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible for leaving it so short, but this was the PERFECT PLACE to leave it for now. 
> 
> (I enjoy having random ideas thrown at me, though. It helps me think. I have no idea why.)


	4. Eeny, Meany, Minee - Whoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with it

The first one awake was apparently the problem one, eyes with crimson scelera and vividly violet-ish irises. Karkat said indigo. (It still looks purple to John.) But anyway, Karkat was up and on him the moment he bared his fangs, shoosh-papping him with a no nonsense air that made the murderous rage calm but not leave. This would be the vicious, dark, blood hungry side of the troll, only...

John knew trolls were dangerous, but having a creature inside that would thirst for blood and death and gore - that was not something he got because, unlike Rose or Dave or Jade, he didn't feel the need for space, for life like they did. Oh, he liked living, had fought to live, but he had not really got it, that urge to kill. Maybe it was because he just didn't let himself get that angry, let the little things go, and dealt with the big ones when he was forced to. Upset, yeah, and down right annoyed, but he just...he didn't get out and out angry. 

The next one up was a shivering, weeping, depressed wreck, huddled in on himself and sporting a giant set of bruises around his neck, as if something or someone had choked him. John cooed as he floated over, wrapping his long arms around the sniffling mess and patting his face dry with the edge of the blanket. The waxy paint came with it, showing more bruising around his mouth and eye, John silently feeling that just moments ago mental comparison leave him feeling hypocritical as actual rage well up. Maybe it wasn't so much that he couldn't get angry as it was he could net find it in himself to get angry on his own behalf. Whatever the situation, he curled around this Gamzee, long gangly limbs in his lap, face against his neck and shoulder, soft shudders wracking a thin and delicate frame that wasn't on the other two. What a poor creature, sad and needy and lonely. 

The last came to with a whimsical smile, eyes unfocused and body a pliant sprawl across the surface. Murderous Gamzee looked sharply at the last one, Karkat pulling his face back to his own, knocking their foreheads together and making M. Gamzee go cross-eyed. "No. Not today. Too much hoofbeast shit has gone down. I am too tired and too drained to deal with it. No." 

John sighed, nodding. "He's right," he murmured, petting his Gamzee, silently dubbing him Sad Gamzee. "We'll explain tomorrow, but right now I just want some food and then some sleep." 

Karkat hmmed in agreement, draping himself over M. Gamzee to keep him too busy with the body in his lap to start going after people. Sighing again, the lone human pulled up the wind, fetching pen and paper, writing with his off hand a little comically but well enough, begging for a few sandwiches to be made and don't worry about sending them, he'll know when their done, okay? Rolling it up in a draft, it zoomed from the room, making a bee-line for a troll, any troll, or a human. Karkat blinked at him, head on M. Gamzee's shoulder as he raised a brow. John grinned a little, petting his Gamzee and poking the last one with his foot, the only one without any obvious issues outside of looking like he's been drugged to the gills, and shrugging lightly. 

"Don't tell me you wouldn't make a sandwich only to see how bad I would fail. I know you," he teased, settling into the bedding, S. Gamzee calming down now. A cautious eye peered around, landing on M. Gamzee with a snarl. John was not prepared, nor was Karkat as the two lunged at each other. The lazily sprawling Gamzee was soon joining them in the brawl, eyes not red but orange around the violet of his eyes. Karkat yelped, scrambling away from the flying limbs to John, the human teen lifting the two into the air and away from the fight. There wasn't any blood, he noticed, but there were lots of scratching, pulling, snarling. Karkat squeaked, covering his eyes with his hands, mumbling into them as it progressed, clothes taking a lot of damage and...and was that...

John spun around, tugging Karkat in and shaking him, eyes wide. "Are they doing _what I think they are_?" 

Karkat moaned. " _Yeeeeee-heeeeeees_ ," he whimpered. "My moirail in is Pitch with himself! _Twice!_ " 

John smacked his forehead, blushing and then cringing when the sounds below changed cadence and he felt something in his stomach twist into a hot ball of unmentionable, not going there, ignored now and forever tension. "I am never sleeping on that bed again." 


	5. Your Writing is Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bridging chapter to get around the shenanigans happening...  
> A bit fluffy which, apparently, some of this is. Where is my angst...? 
> 
>  
> 
> ((*goes to look for it* *finds it* *starts throwing it at the chapter* I WANT SAD FEELS, PEOPLE...))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, seriously, I need a BETA like you wouldn't believe. I need someone who can help me with several different series and fandoms and motivate me so I can get my ideas on paper. It's not that I don't have the idea, I just cannot seem to gather them properly to put ON paper in a cohesive line of thought. Which, apparently, is a thing that should be done to understand my brain. 
> 
> I'm not asking anyone to take ALL of this on, that would be asking way too much unless you can entirely follow the convoluted Escher Stair Room paths of my brain. Which, yeah, I cannot even do that some times. But, guys, I need some help. Please. I WILL add more later, I haven't remembered this right off the top of my head. Also, crossovers. ((but mainly HS right now))
> 
>  
> 
> MAIN FANDOMS:
> 
> Inu Yasha, Spirited Away, HOMESTUCK, NARUTO, Kim Possible, American Dragon: Jake Long, Final Fantasy VII (and all the interations there of), The AVENGERS, Skyfall: 007/James Bond, Iron Man, X-MEN, RIDDICK compilation, Harry Potter, Biker Mice From Mars, Labyrinth....Et Cetera, Et Cetera.

**_Hello, John. Here are the sandwiches on a platter to keep you from filling the halls with fillings. Also, to note: "their" denotes ownership, "there" is a place, and "they're" is "they are" in contraction. Please use proper English Grammar or I will be forced to hunt you down._ **

**_Sincerely,_ **

**_Rose_ **

 

John smiled as he read, the plate of sandwiches in his other hand while he ruffled Karkat's hair causing the troll to chirrup like a giant cricket. The letter fluttered in front of his face with the help of his Wind, kind of like having an infinite amount of hands for simple tasks. It was nice. The elbow digging into his side and limply flailing arm trying sluggishly to dislodge his hand buried in the soft satin fluff of hair was a nice comical touch to his overall letter reading experience.

Setting the plate to the side, he grabbed one for himself, scratching soothingly along the base of one horn. "Hey, Karkat, ya hungry?"

There was a hum, possibly in agreement, but the troll didn't move from his sprawl across John, John's lap, and along the ground of the large set of double doors they were planted in front of. Behind said door were three trolls, an impenetrable sound barrier, and a ten ton pail-full of denial by both boys on just what exactly was happening, nope. Not that John had that problem anymore, really. Rose was the best shrink.

Seriously, she had looked at John like he was nuts and then proceeded to have one of the longest sit-downs with him. Possibly in the Land of Ever. John was like that cracker, last one left in the plastic wrapper and then left for who knows how long (years) with little cracks and fractures, bit of crumbs. The moment he is lifted from the too close, too tight wrapper, he crumbled into salty dust and was now trying to pull himself into some semblance of self. Of course, Jade compared him to a human bendy straw - a long line of female preference but an appreciation of the male side of the bend. Troll bendy straws were a new experience in and of themselves. Talk about overly complicated and convoluted...

But this was a topic he wasn't going to touch. It was _way too much_ like incest for his little human brain to deal with easily. MOVING ON!

"You're from a whooole 'nother world~, A different dimension~, You ooopen my e-"

"No, John. No, that is not allowed, stop that blasphemy, it is disgusting and terrible and you should stop right now, shush," was the scratchy, hoarse sounding whisper from Karkat, the troll covering the human teen's mouth with his hand, a red eye peeking blearily through his hair up at John. The human boy smiled at the troll, rolling his eyes. He knew, really. His voice was made for Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin songs, not hip-hop, pop, or rap. Didn't mean he didn't like the music though.

And _**ET**_ from Katy Perry had a special place in their little purgatory. It was a good song, nice vocals, but really weird from their new stand point.  That and Dave abused nice things. That is why they couldn't have nice things to begin with. Because Dave was a douchecanoe. John chuckled softly to himself, Karkat giving him a stink eye before letting go to flop back down, reaching for a sandwich. John went back to petting the troll, running fingers through his hair and around the base of his horns.

It was as they were discussing the advantages of tuna with or without pickles that the door opened in one long creak of foreboding, one bleary eyed Gamzee with half shredded pants held to slim hips standing hunched in on himself. The sclera were pale yellow, the skin was bruised and bloody around the chest and stomach, and a ring of old fading bruises were about his neck like a deadly necklace of pain and hate. Sad Gamzee. In fact, he was the one John could count the ribs on and something in his stomach flipped and knotted like an old ball of yarn tossed around. He was so thin, his bones were nearly outlined with his skin. Karkat whimpered a chirp, burying his face in John's stomach, grabbing so tight it hurt.

"Come 'ere," whispered John, sure his voice only reached this Gamzee because the Wind was one to make sure his words were heard. He held out the arm on the mostly free side, large blue eyes imploring the pathetic creature miserably shuffling his feet. A soft, barely there sigh was his answer as the troll silently padded over, collapsing beside the human with a tiny choked sob. With a face all but devoid of paint, the bruising on his cheeks and mouth were more apparent, old scars standing out like a drunken spider's forgotten web. The boy pulled him in, pressing the cool face into his shoulder and neck, the sobs becoming body-jerking, heart rending sounds, his shirt sleeve sopping wet within seconds, long spidery fingers gripping the fabric ends and leaving holes.

Karkat dared not move, curling more into John, his current and possibly only anchor in this hot mess they were all in. The human boy just pulled them both in a bit more, cooing in Gamzee's hair as he petted him with fingers deep in his nest of hair. Then there was another Gamzee, sclera still red, but not nearly as intense. John panicked, eyes shooting wide as he tapped harshly on Karkat's shoulder.

"Karkat, _Karkat_ , your murderous Moirail Bro-pal _just wandered in, get the fuck up, please, because I might die if you don't,_ " he whispered harshly, holding his Gamzee - and this one was going to be _his_ fuck damn it - to keep him still and hopefully calm at his side. The smaller bundle of gray flipped up so fast, he almost smacked John with a horn to the chin. Before the mouthy bastard could rise, there was a very full lap of Gamzee, snuffling sounds coming from this crazed version, but the teen knew for a fact that he was _not_ crying. Possibly able to smell? TZ would see with Smell-O-Vision, who said Gamzee wouldn't be able to parse scents too? 

So when this Gamzee growled, John stared at him hard, eyes narrowed as he held S. Gamzee. Pulling his bravado up, he laid his hand on Karkat's shoulder and touched his skin in a very non-platonic caress all the way up his throat to cup his chin. M. Gamzee made a sound of confused aggression.

Karkat made his own sound of surprise, looking over his shoulder at John, one eye always on his psycho clown. "John?"

The human just smiled - strained as it was - tapping Karkat's nose even as he watched and stared down the murdering highblood. "Just establishing boundaries, Karkat. I'm not trying to take his Moirail away and he isn't going to take you away from me." 

The pale fluttering blush on the smaller troll's cheeks was absolutely adorable as he cleared his throat. "Uh..."

The human smiled as M. Gamzee looked away, breaking the challenge and allowing John to relax some. Leaning his chin on Karkat's shoulder, the teen chuckled. "Don't think too hard, you might explode." He gently pressed fingers through S. Gamzee's hair, scratching gently along the scalp and horn base. "I am going to have to take this Gamzee to my room, though. Can't have him and M-zee trying to rip out each others' throat when we're not looking."

The silence accompanying that statement was thick and strained, Karkat very much _not happy_ about the whole thing. He did concede to the logic, grunting at the human. "Fine, you bulge blister sack of pustules. Go be a hero and keep your pitiful pale on with that pathetic flesh bag. I think I got this covered."

Without another word, John drifted from the floor, weightless and euphoric as he toddled off with the nearly emaciated form of the former whole Gamzee. Karkat sighed as he looked at his Big Problem. "You," he started, poking this Gamzee on the shoulder, "are a mess. And quite possibly deranged beyond my help, but I'll be fucked upside-down on a chair of broken glass before I give up that easily."

Still, this begged the question: _Who_ would be willing or stupid enough to care for a third Gamzee?


End file.
